


You Know I'm Prone to Bouts of Melancholy

by allihearisradiogaga



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Best Friends, Emo, F/M, Friendship, Lack of Communication, Lunoct, Pining, pre-game, unnecessary angst, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:02:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22602169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allihearisradiogaga/pseuds/allihearisradiogaga
Summary: Noctis thinks Lunafreya is tired of him.  Prompto deals with it.
Relationships: Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	You Know I'm Prone to Bouts of Melancholy

**Author's Note:**

> this is a silly oneshot because I was thinking about how strange it was that Luna and Noct only talk to one another via dog when they both have cell phones

Noctis slumped back in the beanbag chair, sinking down even further in the oversized hoodie that might have been a hand-me-down from Gladio. As he did this, his car drove off of a bridge and crashed into the river below, causing the car to be slowly reset as Prompto’s car rushed past him.

“Noct, I know I’m not great at this, and I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s no fun if you just _let_ me win.” There was no response, so Prompto pressed pause and turned to his friend, who was doing his damndest to become one with the beanbag. “Noct, wh—”

He was cut off as Noctis threw a nearby pillow into Prompto’s face. He let out an inhuman “garumph” as the pillow caught him off guard, but he sat back up immediately.

“What is it?” asked Prompto as if he hadn’t just been pelted with a pillow. He turned around in his own beanbag chair to face Noctis.

“Mmmmph” was the muffled reply that came from the princely beanbag.

“You’re going to have to give me more than _that_ ,” said Prompto, leaning over further. “Is your dad putting on more pressure? Is Ignis?”

Noctis sighed again and, evidently realizing that Prompto wasn’t going to give up this train of thought, leaned forward from his completely reclined position in the beanbag so that he could make eye contact with his friend through his bangs, albeit at a very low angle.

“It’s Luna,” he said finally.

Prompto’s eyes widened at her name. “Lady Lunafreya?” He pushed down his excitement as he tried to gauge in what capacity Noctis was feeling angst about her. “Is she okay?”

“Probably,” said Noctis, rolling over in the beanbag so that he was facing into its cushioned seat. He said something else after that, but it was lost to the beans.

“I feel like you’re being intentionally withholding,” said Prompto, “but you also know that I’m not going to let this go.”

Noctis didn’t move, so Prompto scrambled out of his seat and crouched down next to Noctis’s head. After a brief assessment of the situation, he grabbed ahold of the beanbag just below Noct’s face, allowing Noctis to take a deep breath he had not been able to take since assuming this position. He did not move otherwise.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little overdramatic?”

“Hmph.”

“What’s going on with Lunafreya?”

“I don’t know.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“She hasn’t sent Umbra in like, a week.”

Prompto released the beanbag from his grip, letting it go back into place, probably blocking Noctis’s airways again. “That’s it?”

“Hmph.”

“Why don’t you just _text_ her like a normal person?”

Noctis slumped over in the beanbag just enough to reveal his face. “That’s… not how it works.”

“Noctis.”

“No…”

Prompto sighed. “Well, do you have her number, at least?”

“It’s in my phone.”

Prompto crossed to the coffee table where, among some stray popcorn and soda cans that were in various states of consumption, he found Noct’s phone. He returned to the prince, held his limp thumb to the fingerprint sensor, and after a few clicks, placed the phone in Noctis’s hand.

“You didn’t text her, did you?” asked Noctis, very slowly working his way back into a sitting position. “She doesn’t want to talk to me, so she wouldn’t want me to reach out…”

Prompto held up his own phone, revealing a text sent on his cracked screen. “I sent myself the contact info,” he said. “I texted her from my phone. You’re off the hook.”

As he spoke, Noctis watched a very long text message appear on Prompto’s screen in response to the text he had just sent. The block of text was so long that Prompto had to scroll in order to read it all.

“Noct, you’re in the clear,” he said, tossing the phone to his friend, a grin spreading across his face as he did.

Noctis caught the phone, held it up as if he was about to read it, but then put it back on the beanbag next to him. He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Communicating through Umbra’s journal is… our thing.”

Prompto almost rolled his eyes, but held back. As cringe-worthy as this sappy sentiment was, it was a nice one. Even if it did make Noctis into an even more angsty version of himself. He reached across and picked up his phone.

“Fine,” said Prompt. “But know that Lunafreya sends her ‘fondest regards’ and the Umbra was feeling sick, which is the only reason you haven’t heard from her.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Prompto paused and glanced at his phone, reading quickly as a follow-up text lit up the screen. “And Umbra’s okay, if you were worried.”

“I—yeah. Thank you,” said Noctis. He put his hands to his face and let out a sigh of frustration. “I’m sorry, man, I was just worried she’d gotten bored of me, and…”

“Hey,” said Prompto. “I get it. She’s _way_ out of your league.”

“Hey!”

“I’m not wrong,” laughed Prompto.

“Yeah, well at least I can win a race,” said Noctis, gesturing toward the TV.

“What?” exclaimed Prompto. “I won the last one!”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Random pangs of melancholy are _not_ valid reasons for a non-forfeit,” said Prompto. “I won that fair and square.”

“Fine,” said Noctis, picking up his controller, “then you shouldn’t have a problem doing it again.”


End file.
